


The Tomcat

by SwanFloatieKnight



Series: The Great War [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, Cats, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Panic Attacks, Shellshock, Trauma, Violence, War, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27168239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/pseuds/SwanFloatieKnight
Summary: The tomcat had shown up in March 1915 and like them he was by some miracle still there.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Great War [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983064
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	The Tomcat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1f_this_be_madness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/gifts).



> inspired by [this](https://silmarildust.tumblr.com/post/632723162026704896/petermorwood-surprisekitty-wizardmoon) tumblr post
> 
> This might not be 100% historically accurate, instead it is 100% based on me reading All Quiet On The Western Front about 15 times

A/N: I posted this fic on Ao3, and on Ao3 alone. If you read this on any other website or platform, please consider that I did not consent to this.

* * *

Arthur couldn’t remember when he had seen the first cat in the trenches. It must have been in the winter of 1914 though, maybe even autumn, because he couldn’t think of a war without the cats. And as hard as he had tried to ignore them at first, he had to admit that they did spend comfort besides keeping the rats at bay and warning them of the German gas. They were soft and small and _alive_ and you could pet them and care for them without being laughed at. The men loved the cats.

Especially Merlin loved especially one especially grumpy cat. The cat was old and actually a tomcat, his dirty brown fur (Merlin insisted that it looked a bit like molten gold, in the right light of course) already turning white around his mouth and nose. The tomcat had shown up in March 1915 and like them he was by some miracle still there.

Merlin had taken care of the tomcat as long as Arthur could remember. In the beginning he had mocked him for it. He had laughed at him and told him he should spend his time with more useful companions, go drinking with them, leave the cat alone that would find enough mice to eat on his own.

When Merlin had told him that he had named the tomcat Kilgharrah Arthur had just rolled his eyes. “It is not a bloody dragon, Merlin. If you insist on naming him, give him an ordinary name.” But Merlin had remained stubborn, and the name had remained the same.

As soon as autumn came in 1915 though Arthur envied him for Kilgharrah’s company. The tomcat started sleeping curled up against Merlin’s chest. No matter how much Arthur insisted that he was dirty and lice-infested, he couldn’t really argue against Merlin who told him that they all were, with or without cats. And at least the tomcat provided some warmth.

He had grown accustomed to Kilgharrah being around, to Merlin feeding him scraps of his own meagre rations, hell, even to Merlin talking to him. He stopped laughing at him for that, instead he sat closer to Merlin, the cat between them, and when he carefully reached out and touched the tawny fur he felt Kilgharrah purr beneath his fingers.

Merlin had smiled at him and when Arthur stroked Kilgharrah’s head the next time he had felt Merlin’s cool fingers brush against his own. A strange tingling had spread in his chest, he had wanted to always stroke that soft, warm fur and always have Merlin next to him and always –

Would there always be war? Would they ever go home again, would there ever be peace? There had been promises, back in 1914, that they would be home by Christmas. Arthur had seen three Christmases at the front now, he was pretty confident that he would see a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth. He couldn’t imagine that one day this war would end. Hope for it, yes, that he definitely did. But believe in it? Did anyone out here on the front line really believe in peace?

Their hopes were gone, their youthful idealism, their lives. It all was shot and torn to pieces, enclosed by barbed wire, deafened with the sound of machine guns and bursting shells. They had nothing left to dream, nothing left to hold on to but the war.

Yet Merlin was there, and Kilgharrah, and their fingers touched from time to time and the little tomcat purred as if he couldn’t have picked a more comfortable spot in the whole wide world. To him it didn’t matter that they were sitting in a dirty, muddy trench, that every second an unfortunate projectile from the other side of No Man’s Land could end their lives, that they could smell the stench of rotting bodies that was nauseating but somehow you got used to it. You got used to everything out here. You had to.

Suddenly Kilgharrah got to his feet, he yawned, stretched and then jumped from their seat down into the mud. Merlin looked up.

“No, wait!”

He got up as if to follow him. Immediately Arthur had a bad feeling about this. The air around them, seemingly calm and untouched, was suddenly full of evil silence and dark foreboding.

“Watch out,” Arthur said. The tomcat disappeared between two boxes with ammunition for their machine gun and Merlin stopped in his track and stared after him, lost in thoughts for a moment. “Watch out!”

They heard the grenade as you usually heard them, a weird buzzing in the air that told an experienced soldier like Arthur to seek cover. Instinctively he crouched down and pressed his body into the wall of the trench. It didn’t even deserve the name shelter, but it was the best he could get. He tried to grasp Merlin’s shoulder, pull him down with him, but his friend was too far down the trench, only by a few inches but it was enough. He couldn’t reach him.

The world around him exploded.

Arthur heard nothing but a loud ringing in his ears, the shock wave nearly tore off his helmet. Dirt sprayed up, covered him, for a terribly long second he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move. He wanted to cry out for Merlin, wanted to hear him, feel him, see him, make sure he was still alive and unharmed. But there was nothing, only blackness in front of his eyes and the ringing in his ears.

Then a pair of hands grabbed him. Strong hands that pulled him to his feet. His eyes cleared, he could finally see again, and what he saw made his heart jump.

Merlin was there, shouting at him, he couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was urgent, it must be…

“You follow me, right, Arthur? Come along!”

And Arthur nodded. He held onto Merlin while they ran and ducked and crawled the few metres until they reached the nearest dugout. Somehow, they were both uninjured. Somehow, they had both been lucky. Again.

Arthur took a deep breath. His hands were shaking, he hid them inside his pockets. Merlin had collapsed to the ground, his face ashen, he was breathing harshly and fast, his eyes were closed. Arthur felt the urgent need to reach out for him, put a hand on his shoulder, comfort him but he didn’t know how to do this without making a fool out of himself.

Then, he felt a soft touch on his leg, and when he looked down the tomcat with the dirty brown fur that Merlin insisted on calling Kilgharrah was there. Just like them, he had made it out of this mess alive. A miracle. Arthur snorted.

He bowed down and picked Kilgharrah up. Then he went over to Merlin. Carefully, he placed the tomcat in Merlin’s lap where Kilgharrah curled up, huddling close to Merlin’s chest. Merlin buried his hands in the soft fur. His breathing soon slowed down a little. And when he finally looked up to Arthur again it was with a shaky smile and a silent “Thank you” on his mud-covered lips.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, please leave me a comment and Kudos :D


End file.
